Inside the rowdy gambling house, the air buzzed with excitement and the clatter of dice. The energy inside the den was palpable, but one particular table drew all of ones attention—a table where a crow had become the center of a spectacle.
"YEAH BABY!" Jules yelled, his voice booming over the noise as he stood behind Nyx. The lad's freckled face lit up with unrestrained joy, his stout build vibrating with enthusiasm. The crowd roared in response, their cheers echoing through the gambling den as Nyx threw the dice down the table with a nonchalant flick of his wing.
The dice tumbled and rolled, finally coming to a stop. The crowd erupted into an even bigger cheer as the croupier’s eye twitched in disbelief. Jules couldn't help but smirk at the scene—Nyx had managed to charm this entire room with nothing more than a few rolls of dice.
Nyx brought his wing to the front of his beak and gave it a blow, mimicking a gesture of casual ease, as if saying “par for the course.” He then pulled out a note of 100 Reshal from somewhere within his feathers and slipped it not so discreetly to the waitress bringing him a steady supply of whiskey. Her face lit up in gratitude for the generous crow, her eyes sparkling with appreciation.
The crowd around them began to murmur amongst themselves. "Those rumors about vicious crows attacking people in the park? All bullshit," one man said, shaking his head.
"Yeah, this crow's alright by me," another chimed in, nodding towards Nyx.
Nyx nodded back as if he were agreeing with their sentiments. Then, with a flourish of his wing, he pointed to his whiskey glass and then gestured towards the crowd gathered at the table. The waitress leaned in closer to understand.
"Do you want to buy everyone a drink?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief and excitement.
Nyx squawked affirmatively, causing another cheer to erupt from those around him. The waitress hurried off to fulfill the order while Nyx basked in his newfound popularity.
Jules continued to revel in the moment, laughing heartily and slapping backs as if he were among lifelong friends rather than strangers brought together by chance and a crow.
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Inside the booth, Silas leaned back, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the table's surface. Across from him, "Selen" took a shaky breath, her eyes darting around as if seeking an escape route that didn’t exist.
"What will you do to me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t believe for a second that you’ll just let me walk out of here."
Silas’s gaze was steady, his eyes like twin abysses drawing her in. "Where are Selen and the Thorn?" he repeated, his tone devoid of any false warmth this time. "I will find out whether you’re willing or not. Answer for a chance to live; play at negotiations, and you won’t even have that."
The illusionist's face contorted in pain as a sharp ache began to manifest in her gut. She clenched her teeth, struggling to maintain composure. "Still in Sichal," she managed through gritted teeth. "Breaking through to the second step. She still has the Bloodmoon Thorn."
Silas nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "Quite convenient," he murmured, watching as confusion flickered across her face.
"Why the hustle? Why Rhysling?" he pressed.
"Money," she replied after a moment's hesitation. "Adequate distance and easier to slip into the Guild’s service as they’re still just setting up here."
A low chuckle escaped Silas's lips. "Just money? No lofty ambitions or revenge plots?"
"Both won’t lead to an enjoyable life," she said with a raised eyebrow, her voice tinged with a hint of defiance despite her situation.
The corners of his mouth twitched upward in a predatory smile as he considered her words.
Silas tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table's edge. "Thank you for your forthrightness," he said, his voice smooth yet chilling. The illusionist, still reeling from the pain in her gut, felt a shiver run down her spine.
She let out a defeated sigh, her shoulders slumping. Silas’s lips curled into a small, amused smile. "Why the defeatist attitude?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. "Why not cling to life more fiercely?"
She cast her eyes downward, avoiding his piercing gaze. "In this business," she murmured, "situations like this are always a possibility. It was just... shit luck that someone like you wanted the Thorn."
Silas nodded, a glint of agreement in his eyes. "Indeed," he said softly. His gaze sharpened as he noticed her hand subtly moving towards her sash. "And best not think that little gadget you're reaching for will do anything except cause you harm."
Her teeth gnashed together as she looked up, tears forming unwillingly at the corners of her eyes. Silas clapped his hands once, the sound sharp in the tense air. "Excellent acting," he remarked with a hint of mockery.
The illusionist quickly stopped her tears, wincing as the pain spread further from her abdomen. She took a shaky breath and asked, "What happens now?"
Silas leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing with interest. "An enemy today, a friend tomorrow, perhaps," he mused. "Tell me, little lady who claims to want a decadent life… how far are you willing to go to grant your desires?"
He slid an ampule across the table towards her. Her eyes widened as she quickly reached out for it, her fingers trembling slightly as they closed around it.
Silas watched her intently, his expression unreadable as she held the antidote in her hand.
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The gambling den buzzed with excitement, the air thick with the scent of sweat and ale. Laughter and shouts of victory echoed off the walls, but none louder than the joyous cries coming from a particular table where Nyx, the portly crow, sat surrounded by piles of cash. Jules was on his knees behind him, tears streaming down his freckled face as he kowtowed repeatedly.
"Thank you, Mr. Crow! Thank you!" Jules's voice cracked with emotion, his gratitude spilling over in every word.
Nyx puffed out his chest feathers proudly, a gleam of satisfaction in his beady eyes. The table was littered with Reshal notes. Around them, a crowd of onlookers cheered and clapped, thoroughly entertained by the spectacle.
A waitress approached their table, her tray balanced expertly on one hand. She set down another round of drinks before addressing Nyx directly. "Mr. Crow," she began, her voice carrying a note of awe, "a distinguished customer has sent this for you."
She held out a small invitation card, embossed with gold lettering and intricate designs. Nyx tilted his head to the side, eyeing the card with interest before giving a knowing squawk. He pecked at the card gently, then looked up at the waitress.
"The House of Jade Pleasures," she continued, "extends a VIP invitation to you and your friend here." She glanced at Jules, who was still prostrating himself in gratitude.
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Nyx gave another squawk, this one filled with approval. With a swift motion of his beak and wings, he swept all his winnings off the table into Jules's bag. The crowd around them erupted in applause and cheers as Nyx hopped down from his perch.
"Goodbye, Mr. Crow!" several voices called out in unison.
Nyx flapped his wings once for emphasis before grabbing Jules by the scruff of his neck with surprising strength for a bird of his size. Jules yelped in surprise but quickly found himself being dragged towards the exit.
The waitress watched them go, waving politely. "Goodbye, Mr. Crow," she said softly as they disappeared into the bustling den's entrance.
As she turned back to her duties, she felt something ruffle under her sleeve. Her eyes widened as she discovered a thick wad of Reshal notes tucked there discreetly. She gulped and quickly hid it from view, her heart pounding with both excitement and fear at her unexpected windfall.
The other patrons continued to chatter excitedly about their encounter with Nyx while she tucked away her unexpected tip securely. The den's atmosphere remained electric long after Nyx and Jules had left for their next adventure at The House of Jade Pleasures.
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Selen wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, the bitter taste of the antidote still lingering on her tongue. Relief washed over her almost immediately, and she leaned back against the plush seat of the booth.
"So," she began, her voice steady but edged with defiance, "what's going to stop me from getting away now or screaming for help?"
Silas raised a brow, his expression calm and almost amused. "You'd be dead before you could twitch towards the door," he replied smoothly. "And this booth is reinforced by Magicraft to remove sound. No one will hear you."
Selen's eyes narrowed, but she knew he spoke the truth. She had felt the paralytic's potency and the mysterious poison's pain firsthand and had no reason to believe his death threats were empty.
"Now," Silas continued, his tone polite but firm, "would you kindly answer my previous question?"
She took a deep breath, weighing her options. "Whatever I can get away with," she finally said, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips.
Silas's smile widened slightly. "A wonderful attitude," he remarked. This time, his smile elicited a different kind of feeling in Selen's stomach—one that was both unsettling and intriguing.
"What would you like to be called?" he asked, leaning forward slightly.
"Zinnia," she answered.
"Zinnia," Silas repeated thoughtfully. "Would you like to make even more than you could ever imagine from this auction?"
Zinnia raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You threaten me, almost kill me, both you may still do… and now you want to work with me? …What would your friend Arim say?"
Silas's voice turned monotone as he replied, "Whatever I want him to."
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Do I have a choice?"
"Of course," Silas said with a casual shrug. "You can leave, but I may find you. You can report me, and I may kill you. You can assist me and take a gamble—or perhaps you can end your troubles yourself permanently. All choices you can think of are on the table for you."
He leaned back against the seat, his eyes still locked onto her. "I think your unique talents could help us both get what we want."
Zinnia studied him for a long moment, weighing his words carefully. The tension between them crackled like static in the air.
Finally, she sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Alright," she said begrudgingly. "Let's hear what you have in mind."
Silas chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to vibrate through the booth. "It looks like we will indeed be friends," he said, tapping a knuckle on the side of the table.
The barmaid reentered almost immediately, her demeanor professional but curious. Silas ordered drinks for both of them, causing Zinnia to raise an eyebrow in mild surprise.
"Discussing your plan over drinks?" she asked, her tone laced with curiosity.
Silas had a small smile playing on his lips. "We'll discuss my plan tonight in my room."
Zinnia's eyes gleamed with mockery as she smirked. "So you're one of those? Shame, I almost thought you had some strange scumbag charm..."
Silas interrupted her smoothly. "I'm about as interested in defiling you as I am in eating this table between us."
Her eyebrow quirked in slight irritation at his brusque dismissal. "Why not now?"
"We have time enough for now," Silas replied, his voice calm and measured. "I wish to hear how you came to be involved with Selen and the Thorn. In turn, you can ask me questions I won't answer."
Zinnia's forehead creased as a vein visibly popped, her frustration growing. She took a deep breath, reigning in her temper. "Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "Want the story from the top?"
Silas gestured with a hand, inviting her to begin. The barmaid returned with their drinks, placing them on the table before retreating once more.
Zinnia took a sip of her drink. "It all started in Sichal, of course…" she began, her voice steady despite the underlying tension.
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Nyx's squawks of pleasure echoed inside one of the rooms of The House of Jade Pleasures. The establishment, known for its luxurious decor and extravagant services, had never hosted a guest quite like this before. Within one of the largest rooms, a peculiar scene unfolded.
Two first-step body cultivators, their lovely faces covered in glistening sweat, let out breathy sighs. Their hands moved rhythmically over the back of a crow—an unusual patron by any standard.
Nyx lay sprawled under them on the bed, his wings spread wide as he enjoyed the intense massage. The two women exchanged bewildered glances, their muscles straining with the effort it took to satisfy their avian client.
"When Madam told us we were booked by a 'peculiar individual,' I didn't think she meant this," one of the women murmured between labored breaths.
"I thought it would be some extreme play," her companion replied, her voice tinged with both amusement and exhaustion. "But a crow? Who could have imagined?"
The crow in question used the incense smoke wafting around the room to form letters in mid-air. "Harder," they read, compelling the women to press even more firmly into his feathers.
They complied, their surprise mingling with a sense of professional pride as they worked harder than they had in a long while.
An hour passed, and Nyx finally relented. He squawked in satisfaction and hopped up from the bed, his feathers ruffling contentedly. The women paused, wiping sweat from their brows and exchanging looks of disbelief.
"Lay down, disrobe your tops," Nyx's next command floated before them in smoky letters.
They obeyed without hesitation, curiosity piquing their interest as they settled onto the bed. To their astonishment, they felt feathers tickling their backs before sensing an unfamiliar energy flowing into them.
"A Qi massage?" one thought before her mind was overtaken by an intense wave of pleasure. Moans filled the soundproof room as Nyx's energy worked through their back meridians. Toes curled and bed sheets were bitten as they experienced sensations unlike any they'd ever known.
Nyx finished his massage with a gentlemanly flourish, hopping off their backs and onto the floor with a satisfied squawk. He landed with a soft squelch into a puddle of something that had formed during their session.
As he made his way out of the room, the two body cultivators lay on the bed, utterly spent but deeply satisfied. They would have stories to tell—if anyone would believe them—about the day they massaged a crow who returned the favor with an unforgettable Qi massage.
Nyx strutted down the hallway, his head held high and wings slightly spread as if he owned the place. The House of Jade Pleasures had certainly lived up to its name tonight. He was curious how Jules was doing.
Nyx strutted down the lavishly carpeted stairs, his feathers still ruffled from the intense massage session. As he descended, his eyes caught sight of Jules in the main hall. The young lad sat on a plush velvet couch, surrounded by six working girls who were indulging him far too much. Jules's eyes sparkled with delight as he chatted animatedly, his freckled face glowing with excitement.
Nyx tilted his head, observing the scene with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. The lad had likely blown through all the cash they had won at the gambling den. Nyx shrugged to himself, deciding it was time to extricate Jules from this situation before things got any more out of hand.
With a powerful flap of his wings, Nyx took flight and swooped down towards Jules. His talons latched onto the young man's head, lifting him off the couch with surprising ease. Jules yelped in surprise but quickly recovered, turning back towards the working girls with a broad smile and a wave.
"Goodbye for now!" he called out cheerfully.
The girls responded with enthusiastic farewells, their voices filled with genuine affection. "Come visit us again soon, Jules!"
Nyx dragged Jules out of the brothel and into the streets. The evening air was cool and filled with the distant sounds of revelry from nearby taverns and inns. As they walked towards their homes, Jules began talking to Nyx, his voice filled with wonder.
"Master Nyx," he said earnestly, "brothels sure work differently in the big city. The girls even paid me for the good time and invited me to their private houses for some extra fun!"
Nyx paused, his talons still gripping Jules's head and forcing him to stop as well. He turned his sharp gaze towards Jules, his beady eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"What’s wrong?" Jules asked, confusion evident in his voice.
Nyx released his grip on Jules's head and landed gracefully in front of him. The crow tilted his head as he scrutinized Jules's pants, a sense of disbelief washing over him.
"What...in the name of...?! A MAGIC CO-"
Jules looked down at Nyx, still perplexed by the crow's sudden change in behavior. "Master Nyx? Is something wrong?"
Nyx shook his head vigorously, trying to clear his thoughts.
As they continued their journey through Rhysling, Nyx couldn't help but marvel at the young man's naivety and prowess.